To Tame a Spark
by MizzMegz
Summary: Megavolt is in a special rehabilitation program at SHUSH, but things aren't always what they seem. Can J. Gander and new comer Dr. Maria dos Santos figure out who's friend and who's foe before it's too late, for SHUSH, St. Canard, and Megavolt?
1. Chapter 1

There was a lot to be said about a person by the shoes they wore. And hers were of the white orthopedic variety complete with inserts. They were her best purchase despite all the protests of her more fashionably stable and secretarial friends. Dr. Maria dos Santos, however, did not have a desk job, nor did she want one. Even if by the time her day ended her feet were the most used and abused part of her body, she would not swap a sturdy comfortable sensible pair of shoes for an occupation that allowed a more stylish model. 

At least that was what she told herself as she studied the floor on the way to her latest assignment. After a moment she had to face the rather dismal conclusion that her shoes were indeed lacking personality, much like herself. She sighed, when had she become so drab? Was it her medication? Perhaps it was time to adjust the dosage? At thirty-two, wasn't she supposed to be in her prime? Dating men and then turning around to gossip with her girlfriends? This had nothing to do with medication and everything to do with having no life outside of work.  
Stopping for a moment in the sterile hallway, she rubbed at her melancholy thoughts and tired eyes. Sleep was also a fleeting factor ever since she'd come to the attention of Director Hooter, or rather his senior doctor on the SHUSH staff, Dr. Lance McCain. The Brazilian mouse credited her sour temperament to him, and to the manila envelope clutched ever so tightly between her hands. Inside was limited information on her newest patient, there was barely enough to even bother a glance. She'd been reassured that she'd receive more information once things were in order. Knowing the way things worked or rather didn't work, she doubted that order would ever be achieved.

Try as she might, Maria even found herself blaming the director for his rare, utterly rare to almost non-existent ,show of idiocy. What could Dr. McCain, a man she'd never even met, have possibly said to Hooter that would have warranted her the credentials necessary to work with the criminally insane? A few were blatantly obvious, but she wrote off her dabbling in developing new medicine as reckless and her psychology skills as rusty at best and utterly forgotten at worst. And if they expected her to use her other "talents," they were to be sorely disappointed.

Two guards greeted her as she reached her destination. She allowed them to use their wands and to hand her a tranq gun. It'd been awhile since she had to use one. That fact that it might be necessary darkened her day even further.

"Have the other doctors been in to see him today?"

The hulking canine gave her a kind smile and tipped his hat in a gentleman-like fashion, "Just you so far, Dr. dos Santos. Dr. McCain won't arrive until later this afternoon." The rest of his sentence dropped into a mutter she couldn't quite hear, "That is if he shows up at all."

This startled her to say the least, "But this patient has special medicinal needs!"

The guard was sympathetic as he picked up a tray loaded with meds and some paper work. "Dr. McCain seems to have confidence in your abilities, ma'am. I'm to follow you in. This one's a little cranky in the morning."

Maria pushed her light framed glassed up her nose not trusting herself to speak. This Dr. McCain was gnawing on her last nerve leaving her in such a situation so poorly prepared. What little she knew of her purpose here was that they were exploring a new method of rehabilitation. Either Dr. McCain saw this as beneath his expertise or he flat out didn't care. Her only comfort was in that she could include such opinions in her reports to the director.

"Um, doctor?" The guard was waiting.

She gave him a tight smile, "Forgive me, I was merely indulging in a slight fantasy."

"About Dr. McCain?" the canine kept his question neutral.

"Yes," she snapped as he punched in the code," And how I plan on giving him an earful the moment I meet him!"

The guard grinned, "I suggest you take a number, ma'am, there's quite the waitin' list."

"Beleza," she muttered as the doors whooshed open, "So, Quinton," Maria asked finally reading his nametag, "What can you tell me about Elmo Sputterspark? You're professional opinion seems to be the only one I'll be receiving."

Quinton sobered as he raised an eyebrow. "That's what they're callin' him now, eh? Well, I guess it don't matter what they call him, he'll still be waitin' on the other side of these doors ornerier than hell and nuttier than last years fruitcake."

Curiosity got the better of her, "What did they used to call him?"

He stared hard at her face, "You really don't know?" She shook her head wondering now if she really wanted to. He let out a sigh and said more to himself than to her, "They really are throwing you into this blind." Then after a moment Quinton looked at her again and said something that chilled the blood in her veins, "Dr. dos Santos, I guess there's no way to sugar coat it, but, for the past fifteen years the world has known Elmo Sputterspark as Megavolt."

Author's note: Maria dos Santos is mine and so is Quinton. Everybody else belongs to Disney...drat! This is just the first chapter and it'll pick up and introduce familiar characters, promise. :)


	2. Chapter 2

To say that it was hard to walk into that room knowing what awaited her, would be like saying it was hard to disarm a bomb seconds before it's impending explosion with a remaining discrepancy as to which wire to cut. Maria exhaled and stepped forward entering the white and sterile place, so much like her shoes… Much to her overactive imagination's dismay, she did not fizzle into a pile of ash upon doing so. 

A retreating image of electricity flying from the fingertips of a crazed rat as portrayed by the media was deflated by the reality of the padded room before her. There, in the middle, was an observation table complete with restraints and within those restraints was the "crazed rat." On either side were the lumbering figures of the guards that had escorted him here for treatment, another rat and a duck. Again to her surprise, it was silent. Megavolt, Elmo, she quickly amended, was just staring listlessly at the ceiling, seemingly searching for something. She followed his gaze and was interested to see that the light source was entirely different than anything she had ever seen.

Quinton rested the tray on a nearby counter and gestured towards the glowing light fixtures. "The scientists of SHUSH have been developin' those ever since this guy's first static shock. Developin' this whole place actually, especially for him." He now gestured to the whole facility. "Everything is insulated and made with a special rubber compound. No electricity since we passed through the first set of doors. Those lights up there, just enhanced glow sticks."

"Don't they ever go out?" Maria was curious despite herself.

The canine shook his head, " A special chemical that recycles it's reaction."

"A recycling chemical reaction?" She was impressed, "Sounds pricey."

Quinton grimaced, "It is. If the tax payers knew, they'd be cheering on Sparky over there to fry us all."

Maria froze. Seconds before, the silence had been one of borderline tranquility, now it was one of pure hostility. Glancing at Elmo, she was chilled to see his one blue eye and one brown boring holes in the back of her escort's head.

Swallowing she queried, "Quinton?"

He turned, "Dr. dos Santos?"

"I would appreciate it in the future if you would not refer to the patient as…" she hesitated to even repeat the nickname, "Sparky." Another wave of hate washed over her and she reached a hand for the counter to steady her wooziness. She couldn't quite read his face as Quinton looked from her to Megavolt and back again, but something did not bode well.

"Whatever you say, doc."

"Doc?" She thought somewhat warily, quite the demotion for requesting a halt to name calling. Aloud she said, "Thank you." All the while alarm bells were screaming that she had somehow touched on a nerve, but the moment had passed and the ability to read the emotion had gone. She picked up the tray of meds and placed them on a portable table and wheeled it over to Elmo Sputterspark. It was hard to ignore the binary color of his gaze but he soon lost interest and continued his earnest searching of the ceiling.

The other two guards approached snickering amongst themselves. "This is the quietest he's ever been. Usually he's hollerin' up a storm about his light bulbs." Now that she was closer she could see the remnants of a fading black eye and a few bruises on them. Obviously Elmo wasn't as weak as his smaller frame would have one believe. She'd have to keep that in mind. "He's all yours ma'am. We'll be waitin' by the doors. Needles make us squeamish. If he gets a little rowdy, just step back and let us handle it." They passed and took up their posts by the doors exchanging a few words with Quinton.

Maria's brow furrowed. In all of five seconds, it seemed that she had somehow managed to earn the enmity of all present, with the exception of…

"Elmo?" He was still riveted on the ceiling, seemingly ignoring her. She tried anyway, "Elmo, I-"

"They've all gone away." His voice sounded strained and tired. Thinking about his comment she lifted his sleeve to his shoulder and winced to find a series of bruises where previous sloppy or rough injections had been given. Was he referring to the guards? She maneuvered to the other side of the bed and found his left shoulder to be less abused than his right.

"Who's gone away, Elmo?" she asked as she readied the first dose of anti-psychotics. Maybe she could get an idea of what was going on in his head, if anything a conversation would keep him distracted from the syringe. His unusual stare found her once more and watched as she sterilized his skin with a cotton swab. When the needle came into view, he tensed, so much for conversation. Not wanting anymore problems than she already had, she concentrated her thoughts on those of great comfort. The embrace of her mother, her father wiping her tears, being wrapped in her grandmother's quilt and so on. She let it settle over her patient like a light blanket and he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Quickly as she dared she administered the meds and picked up his chart filling in the time and the dosage of each.

Her mind wandered in thought. Of all criminals to rehabilitate, why Megavolt? What was to be gained? Prestige was the first thing that came to mind and it caused her nose to wrinkle. Dr. McCain fit the bill. But what about the director? He wasn't one to seek after approval or admiration from anyone. In moments past, he always proved himself to be a gentleman of high regard and even higher intelligence. She stole a glance once more towards the guards in their powwow. Something didn't set right.

"It didn't hurt."

Her attention was redirected to the rat on the table. He was looking quizzically at his arm as if he were wondering why it was attached the way it was.

"It's not supposed to hurt," she replied looking over the paperwork. She needed to take his temp and check his lungs and pulse, basic stuff.

His eyes snapped to her and narrowed as though seeing her for the first time. "Who're you and where are you going to stick that?" It sounded more like a demand than a question.

"I'm Dr. dos Santos, and this," she said waving a thermometer in the air, "Could go someplace unpleasant, but since you're behaving, it'll go right here." And she tucked the device under his arm, wondering if this really was the Megavolt whom St. Canard knew and feared or if this was some sort of sick prank. If it was, without all the hardware, he almost seemed normal, vulnerable…weak.

It was a grave miscalculation, his hand snatched her wrist and squeezed. She cried out in surprise. The restraints still held but she'd hovered too close within the flexibility of his wrist and was paying for it now. His grip tightened and she winced at the pain as she tried to pull away. His blue eye seemed to glow while the brown seemed to pulsate a darkness, "Who said I was behaving?" The smile he gave was chilling and there was a pause, like he expected something to happen and it didn't. After a few seconds more his smile faded and he released her staring once more at the ceiling, lost. "All gone…"

She tumbled to the floor and could see that the guards hadn't budged but their attention was riveted towards her. Furious, she failed to notice the old gentleman tranquilizer gun at the ready on her immediate right until he offered her a hand up.

"You were doing well, Maria" J. Gander reassured concealing his weapon. "The last doctor, couldn't even get within three feet of him."

Her anger faded to shock, "When did you-"

He smiled with a glint in his eye, "I've picked up a few tricks through the years, my dear. I wasn't always seated behind a desk."

"You still aren't," she pointed out, slowly recovering from her scare.

He chuckled and guided her towards the doors, "Too true." To the guards he was less courteous, "Gentlemen, you are capable of escorting the patient back to his cell, are you not?" They flinched and gave a salute. "Very good then."

As she and the director were about to leave, they heard a scream.

"NOOOO!"

Whirling Maria caught sight of Megavolt pulling furiously at his restraints, painfully chaffing his skin. He screamed again as the guards advanced. Quinton reached him first and took a hold of the struggling rat while the others released him from the table. Megavolt managed to deal a few blows to the guards before receiving a fist to his stomach. He collapsed like a rag doll.

Just by watching, Maria felt the air leave her own lungs and staggered. If not for Hooter's firm hand, she would have fallen.

"I think you've had enough for one day, Maria and I need to discuss a few matters with you concerning our patient." While he escorted her to the door, Megavolt recovered and new waves of terror and pain found her as he screamed and sobbed over and over. "THEY'LL BURN ME OUT, THEY'LL BURN ME OUT!"

Even after they'd reached the director's office she could still hear the words echoing in her head. She doubted she'd be of much use for the rest of the day, she felt exhausted and bruised. A rather thick file was slid into place under her nose. Bold letters that read Elmo Sputterspark stared back at her as J. Gander slid behind his desk, hands steepled before his face.

"I find that when confronted with a challenge, it is best to have as much information as possible on said challenge. And Megavolt certainly proves to be under that jurisdiction, do you not agree?"

She nodded slightly numb.

He sat in silent observation a few moments more before saying, "Maria, I hope that we are successful. Because, if we are, there will be fewer Megavolts in the world and more reason to sleep soundly at night. And maybe, a few families would be spared the pain of losing a loved one prematurely on both ends of the spectrum." He opened the folder to a picture of an odd but kind looking woman. "Edna Sputterspark lost her son when he was only seven. No amount of counseling or treatment helped. Watching the steady deterioration of Elmo ate at her from the inside until she could stand it no longer. There are many Elmo's in this world and there are many Edna's, maybe not all to the same extreme, but they are all looking for something to make the suffering end. I believe that between the resources we have at our fingertips and the individual talents and abilities of my staff, we ought to be able to come up with something better than simple hope. For this assignment, I've placed most of my confidence in you. I believe that with your unique talents, you will be able to retrieve data and reach Elmo on a level that has not been achieved in the past. In doing so, I believe that the results will be different and that those results can be adapted to fit the general populace."

Maria let his words sink in. Elmo was just one part of the picture, though an important one. "I'll admit sir, I'm not sure I can do what you think I can do."

"After observing you today, Dr. dos Santos, I'm positive that you can." He sat forward, "Now, I've already been through this information with Dr. McCain, but I think it wise to review it with you personally"  
Another page in the file was turned and Dr. Maria dos Santos took her first disturbing glance into the beginning of Megavolt and the end of Elmo.

Author's note: I'd forgotten to mention that you might want to read Icequeenkitty's Making Monsters , that part which refers to Megavolt's past before you continue on with this. And yes, I have her permission to it as a back story. She's just awesome that way! 


	3. Chapter 3

Droplets of moisture trickled down the window pane. The sky beyond was an even more menacing black than that of the morning and showed no sign of dissipating anytime soon. To say the least, the weather did nothing to lighten J. Gander's mental burden. There were so many things to consider, even more so now that Megavolt was in their possession…again. Then there was Maria, more important to them than she knew.

Down on his desk was another file, fresh and rather thin, the last name of dos Santos staring back. The information inside was little, but satisfactory. He rather wished all files that came his way were as simple and to the point, but such is that of lofty thoughts. Once more he opened the file and was greeted by the sight of warm brown eyes that seemed to dominate such a small face. Maria had been discovered in the state of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil well over twenty years ago. She'd been living on the streets, abandoned by her family, until by chance alone he'd been there on assignment . He could remember the day clear as glass. They'd just finished meeting with their foreign operations and were heading to the airport when two Brazilian agents came in looking the worse for wear, a female mouse-ling in tow. She was too thin, like most children in her situation, making her large brown eyes all the more wild and prominent. That she was terrified was clear as she struggled against her captors but could not achieve freedom. The foreign director was furious and of course demanded the explanation they all wished to hear for such behavior. But none was necessary as the two agents were sent flying seemingly of their own accord. Young Maria's terror was replaced by rage.

"Nao, me toquem!"

J. Gander would have understood 'Don't touch me!' no matter what the language after such a display. Fear became a dominant emotion in the fray as a wind vortex started up in the middle of the facility; paper and various other articles crashing and whipping about. Maria's eyes took up a hazy film as the agents scattered in every direction trying to avoid this child's wrath. One agent even went to the extreme of drawing his firearm, child or no, Maria was an immanent threat to SHUSH security. It proved to be a mistake as the gun was ripped from his hands and crushed and then he too was sent crashing to the opposite wall. J. Gander himself was a bit calmer, he never was one to loose his cool, it solved nothing. Flattening himself against the floor, he managed to inch himself closer to her bit by bit. Somehow, he'd gone unnoticed until he was close enough to wrap a hand around her ankle. It was then that she glanced down startled, breaking her concentration and ultimately her attack as she slumped to ground exhausted and in tears.

"Por favor nao me machucar, eu fiz nada e nao quero sentir mais dor!"

While he hadn't understood her at the time, he learned later that it had been a plea, 'please don't hurt me, I didn't do anything and I don't want to feel anymore pain.' It didn't take long to decide that Maria would be coming back with them to the States to undergo treatment. Not two weeks later, Maria was diagnosed as an empath. Further research showed that when threatened or under severe amounts of stress, she exhibited a dangerous amount of telekinetic energy as a self-defense mechanism. After a few more weeks of counseling and some prescribed medication, she was well underway in controlling her power. An older married couple closely linked to SHUSH agreed to take her on as their own and saw to it that she continued with treatment as well as schooling. From then on, J. Gander lost contact with her, until only a few short months ago, when Maria had been hired on as a lab assistant. It was about at that same time when Megavolt's cell was finished and he was transferred from the asylum to SHUSH and fell under the care of Dr. McCain…

A knock at the door that he'd been expecting a half hour earlier, removed him from his thoughts. Without glancing down, he concealed the file and called, "Come in."

The oak wood door swung open silently and in stepped a rather handsome blond haired mouse. He flashed a white smile, eager enthusiasm in his features as he shook the director's hand. "So she's accepted?"

J. Gander retracted his hand as he regarded the doctor with a thoughtful gaze, "After a summoning like yours, Lance, I daresay the poor girl had little choice in the matter."

The younger man waved that aside with his hand, "The important thing is that she's where she's needed. We wouldn't be able to go any further without her."

"I'm inclined to agree whole heartedly, Maria is indeed important to Elmo's rehabilitation, however," the director countered observing the mouse levelly over his folded hands, "You're introductory methods are questionable if not borderline irresponsible."

Dr. McCain laughed, " President, my guards were there, noth-"

"You're guards, Dr. McCain, were on the other side of the room when Mr. Sputterspark gained an impressive hold on Dr. dos Santos. I assure you they showed no signs of rushing to her aid."

"She needs to be tested, John! It builds character and I need to know exactly what she's capable of!"

J. Gander's voice was low and dangerous, "Dr. McCain, I decide what you need to know and I warn you now, that you are flirting with insubordination. In the future, you will be present unless otherwise directed or I will build your character. Have I made myself clear?"

The blonde mouse was silent for a few moments at the reprimand before responding slowly, "Yes…of course… J. Gander."

"Good, I look forward to your future reports. Dismissed."

Lance McCain rose stiffly and exited with little more than a frown as J. Gander Hooter stared at the door, black eyes boring through to the other side deep in thought. He'd known Lance for quite sometime and was allowing past services to overrule present suspicions, all the while instinct was screaming caution. It was an unsettling situation. 


	4. Chapter 4

The light scent of lavender wafted through the simple apartment, compliments of burning candles. Maria sat lotus position, back straight, eyes closed and mind sifting through the days events. Everything had been clear, normal, until she had her first encounter with Elmo…Then everything spiraled out of control as his emotions had assaulted her from all sides in bursts or in broken images. The worst were the shattered memories of a scared little boy that abruptly changed into the creature Megavolt…

She drew in a deep breath calming herself and continued to try organize what she saw in her head in relation to what she had learned from J. Gander that morning. It was comparable to trying to categorize a speeding malfunctioning security camera in chronological order while suffering from a bout of vertigo. The only thing that she could gather from today's observations was that Elmo was terrified, of who or what remained a mystery.

Sighing, she opened her eyes, finally giving up trying to calm the buzzing in her skull and blew out the candles. It was still early but she felt exhausted and set about preparing for bed. While brushing her teeth, she almost nodded off, twice, and heading to her room she stumbled seemingly over nothing. Making it to the bed and nestling herself between the covers was a relief. It didn't take very much concentration to lie still and breathe, much to her happiness, but the dreams that followed were disturbing. In particular, a young Elmo sitting stock still in a small closet hollow eyes riveted on a solitary light bulb. He was whispering to it gently with a quiet smile. This wasn't half as disconcerting as when the light bulb spoke back…

Lance McCain was working late, he told his lovely secretary that she shouldn't worry her pretty head over him and his sleeping habits. To further convince her, he slipped his number into her perfectly manicured hand and said that if it would make her feel better she could check up on him this weekend…at his condo. She giggled, fluttering her eyelashes and with one last smile over her should she was gone. Finally.

He immediately locked up his office and headed for the psyche ward. If he didn't take care of a few things now, odds were this whole experiment would blow up in his face. He couldn't have the director stumbling upon things he shouldn't. Quinton greeted him at the check point.

"Problems, sir?"

The blonde doctor responded dryly, "Not yet."

"Any news from…?" Quinton new better than to supply the name of their financer.

Lance raked a hand through his hair, "They're getting impatient." The guard punched in the code and the doors whooshed open. "What did you think of Dr. dos Santos"  
"Soft," came the reply, "You'd best keep her in the dark, I don't think she'd agree with what you're trying to do."

He snorted, "Pity, this would go a whole lot faster if she cooperated, perhaps be more enjoyable as well." If Lance saw Quinton roll his eyes, he didn't comment. "So how's our future gold mine?"

The hulking guard shrugged as they passed the observation room and headed for the holding cell. "Hasn't been much trouble since we tranqed him."

"Well, let's see if I can't make him a little more chatty." Dr. McCain withdrew a syringe not even one fourth of the way full.

Quinton raised an eyebrow, "And that would be?"

"Sodium pentothal," the doctor responded, "With my own special twist. Open the door."

Not one to ask to many questions, the canine complied and stepped aside. "Yell, if you have any problems."

The blonde doctor was droll now, "And you'll coming rushing to my rescue, is that it? Hooter was less than impressed with your earlier "assistance," so I suppose it would be best if we were a little more protective of those around our patient from now on. Spread the word."

Quinton took up his station next to the door as Lance McCain entered, "Yes sir."

Inside, the light was eerie and held a greenish tint, the chemical needed to be cleaned. He'd put it in his notes of things to have done but now, to the task at hand. "Elmo?" The mouse called snidely, "You have a visitor."

"Go away."

McCain let his eyes adjust before continuing further. He found the miserable occupant on the farthest side of the room huddled on the floor.

"Y'know Elmo, we could get you a bed and maybe a few other things if you'd just tell us what we want to know." The friendly smile froze on his face as he was greeted with the odd colored glare he'd received for the past months, it still unnerved him. All the more so when accentuated with dark circles from lack of sleep.

There was a raspy bark of laughter and then silence, "Go to h-"

"Ah ah ah," Dr. McCain admonished while brandishing the needle, "I thought you'd have some manners by now."

Elmo's panic stricken eyes locked onto the syringe as he scooted back until he hit the wall.

"No."

The mouse advanced, an angry snap in his step, "Just tell me how you do it, Elmo, and this will all go away."

"No!"

Patience lost, Dr. McCain took a hold of a Elmo's too thin arm and jabbed the needle and it's contents into the struggling patient. "Yes, you will tell me, one way or the other, you will tell me how you wield such power."

"NOOO!"

He jerked the syringe from his arm and let the haunted rat collapse into a heap at his feet. "Let's see if you don't change your mind once that settles into your system."

It didn't take long before Elmo began to laugh in bursting fits of air, "They won't listen to you, they don't like you."

Dr. McCain rubbed his chin circling his victim, this was new, "Who won't like me, Elmo?" Silence. "Elmo? Elmo!" He reached down and jerked him back by the hair and was met with two livid eyes, one blue and one brown. Involuntarily, Dr. McCain dropped Elmo and took a step back.

"The light bulbs," Elmo growled getting to his feet, "They don't like you." He seized the retreating doctor by the throat. "And neither do I." 


	5. Chapter 5

A jangled explosion of sound ripped through her nightmare. Startled and disoriented, Maria tumbled from her bed, sheets entangling her legs. It took her a moment to realize that she'd only been asleep for a few hours and that it was the urgent bawling of the phone that woke her and not her alarm clock. Scrambling madly to right herself and get to the phone, she managed to tumble and graze her shin. There was a sense of urgency in the way the phone continued to ring, images of the night terror fresh in her mind…Elmo and Dr. McCain. While she certainly had no respect for the man, she didn't wish any harm upon him either, as had been occurring in her dream.

She managed to snag the phone before she stumbled once more in the dark.

"Hello?" she was surprised at how jagged and sleep caked her voice sounded.

"Dr. Dos Santos?"

"Yes, this is she."

"We need you to report to SHUSH immediately, you are needed to take control of your patient."

"Have you used tranquilizers?"

"Affirmative, but ineffective, ma'am we need you before he hurts someone else. Ma'am? Ma'am?"

The phone dangled from it's chord and the sound of a door slamming in the distance was the agent's only response.

It felt like an eternity before the SHUSH building came into view. The tires to her BMW wailed a protest and left a fair amount of rubber on the pavement as she abused the breaks. She was taking up two, nearly three, parking spaces, but she didn't care. Once out of the car, she took the steps two at a time and was through the door in record time. She already had a welcoming committee as an assistant handed her a chart and fell into step beside her bringing her up to speed.

"What happened?" Maria demanded, " He was stable for the most part when I left!"

The assistant didn't have much room to be apologetic and shrugged helplessly, " Truth be told we don't know, doctor."

"Was it a reaction to some of his meds?"

Again the assistant shrugged, " We haven't been able to take blood samples, he's too riled up and after what he did to Dr. McCain, no one's too keen on getting too close."

Maria's gaze sharpened on the young brunette duck, "What happened to Dr. McCain?"

"Know one knows why, but he was in there with him alone. It was a little too quite so the guard on duty peeked in and saw Megavolt practically strangling the life out of Dr. McCain. When he went in to separate them, Megavolt lost interest in the doctor and went nuts on the guard. They're both okay, but damn. Who knew that even without his electricity he'd still a force to be reckoned with?"

Maria didn't like what she was hearing. "I'm going to try and calm him down, and then I want a blood sample ASAP. I want to know everything, blood type, allergies, what's in his system and what might be causing this reaction."

The assistant winced, "Ever occur to you that's he's just insane? And I'm sorry ma'am but the only one who can order up blood work on Megavolt is Dr. McCain."

Maria stopped and whirled on the young assistant, " Look," her eyes flew to the security badge, "Ms. Quackman, I'm going to need some info for the director and I can't just shrug and say, 'Gee, J. Gander, I don't know must be some kind of fluke seizure or something!' I need a blood sample, I should have asked for one earlier, but I didn't. Now, tell me how it can happen."

The duck nibbled on her lower beak before seemingly making up her mind. "Okay, here." An empty vile was shoved into her hand. "You get me the blood and I'll do the lab work, but it'll be off record."

"Of course it will," Maria sighed exasperated. "Where is Dr. McCain now?"

"He and the guard are receiving medical attention in sick bay south."

"Who's with Elmo?"

"Probably another guard."

"Wonderful. Where can I find you?"

"Just go to J. Gander's secretary and say it's for Megan in lab fourteen. It'll get to me, but I'd put it in an envelope. You'd be surprised just by how nosey people can be around here."

Maria grinned and headed for Elmo's holding cell, "I think I have an idea, but thanks for the warning."

" And Dr. Dos Santos?" She turned and instinctively caught a white lab coat from the air, somewhat confused. "You look like you just rolled out of bed."

Glancing down at her nightly ensemble caused her a slight blush. "I was in a hurry," she muttered as she slipped on the lab coat.

Megan Quackman grinned as she was making her way to complete her own duties, "No doubt! Remember lab fourteen and good luck Dr. Dos Santos!" She then muttered, "We're both gonna need it."

Upon approaching Megavolt's cell, Maria found another guard at the door. He looked jittery, but tipped his hat to her in acknowledgement.

"I'm here to see if I can't neutralize the patient," she explained, "If you'd be so kind to open the doors?"

"I was told no one was to enter."

"On who's orders?"

"Dr. McCain's."

Thoroughly annoyed she crossed her arms and came up with what she hoped to be a feasible lie, "Well, mine come from J. Gander, open up."

His eyes were wary but in the end he consented and before she could enter he grabbed her elbow, "With all due respect ma'am…be careful."

She was surprised, "What about the second set of doors?"

"I can open them from here. Begging your pardon, but I'd just as well stay as far away from him as possible."

She felt a bit of sympathy, "I understand, and don't worry. If push comes to shove, I can hold my own."

He pushed a few buttons on a control panel and the doors opened, "For your sake, I hope so."

The first set of doors closed behind her and after taking a few more steps the second opened. The room was a bit darker than she imagined, the glows overhead were flickering. Odd, she wondered if that was normal. The room was quiet and her eyes hadn't adjusted yet. So, she relied on other methods. The barriers she kept around herself to separate her emotions from those of others, dropped. A symphony of negativity assaulted her sixth sense and it made her stagger. Megavolt was not happy, but she kept calm, it wouldn't do to loose control.

"Elmo?" She called his real name gently, hoping to provoke a less agitated response.

There was a low growl and a rustle of movement from the far corner, "How many times do I have to tell you people! It's MEGAVOLT!"

She leapt to the side as he made a non to graceful lunge for her. "So much for not trying to provoke him," she thought a tad grim. Aloud she replied, "Fine, Megavolt, I just want to talk…and get a blood sample." She thought it best to be honest up front. Her eyes had adjusted by now and she could see that he was the worse for wear. What startled her even more were the darkening circles under his eyes. No sleep? Or rough guard treatment? Or both? His emotions were confusing, he didn't trust her, of that much she was certain. He was even a little afraid of her, but the rest were all jumbled, like her dream. She spoke again, "Is that okay with you?"

That seemed to startle him, at least it stemmed the flow of confusion, fear, and even some of the anger, but he still said nothing. She waited a bit longer. "I'm here to help you, not hurt you."

He giggled hysterically, "Help me? How is this, "And he indicated his surroundings in a cracked whisper, "helping me?" He gazed at her eyes level, probably the clearest she'd seen them as he advanced and stopped about a foot away, "I'm waiting for an answer."

She looked around once more and noticed that the only two things in the dreary room were themselves and a restraining examination table. She brought her gaze back to him, his hostility was fading somewhat. "I don't know."

The expression on his face was unreadable as he turned away from her once more and went back to sitting in his corner muttering to himself.

Much to her surprise and his own she followed him. Now he was afraid as he looked up at her. "W-what do you want?" Her brow furrowed, it was almost like he didn't remember her…maybe he didn't, or…

"Elmo?" Maria lowered herself slowly so that she was no longer towering over him. His wide eyes followed her every move and were barely visible through the streaks of hair.

"What."

She reached out a hand and gently moved aside his bangs. He flinched at her touch and she made a mental note of it. "I need you to tell me something the might make you upset. But I need to know so that I can…make some decisions, okay?"

His eyes flickered a bit and the hostility was back as he swatted her hand away, "No."

She sighed and put comfort and trust into her voice, "Please? I just need to know if Dr. McCain gave you anything."

He blinked, surprised again and for a brief moment his voice was soft, lost, "I don't know."

Maria was as careful as she could be with her next statement, "There is a way to find out, but it involves a needle." She paused and looked at his face, it was pure reluctance. Then inspiration struck and she took his hands. "Elmo-"

"Megavolt," he corrected a bit acidic, but at least he was listening.

" Megavolt," she repeated, allowing herself to be corrected, "You give me a blood sample and I'll get Dr. McCain removed from the program."

The rat quirked an eyebrow and rolled up his sleeve, offering his left arm, "What's in it for you?"

Maria smirked and replied, "Peace of mind." He snorted as she removed the vile and attached the needle in a practiced movement. She dove into the pockets of the borrowed lab coat and thanked her lucky stars that she came up with a few sterile wipes and some cotton swabs and a tourniquet. She took his arm, applied the tourniquet, and felt around for a vein, all the while he remained silent and observing. She found one that would do. Without removing her gaze from his arm she cleaned a spot and said, "If it bothers you, I suggest you don't look, it helps." She felt rather than saw him turn his head. Quickly she inserted the needle and slipped the vile into a plastic encasing that would create suction. She did so and it was a matter of seconds that she had what she needed. She removed the needle, popped the tourniquet, and placed a cotton swab over top and bent his arm upwards. "Keep it like that for a moment."

The expression he gave her was odd, but he didn't argue. Maria quickly pocketed all evidence of what she'd done and in the process her fingers brushed against something else in the coat. Curious, she wrapped her fingers around a smooth surface and removed a container for a urinary sample. If she really wanted to be thorough and if Megavolt consented, she could see what had already been through his system…

Megavolt noticed her calculating expression and the container. He didn't like it.

"Would you be willing to fill this up?" She raised the container.

"Not that I can't guess, but with what?"

"Yes or no?"

Annoyed he snatched it from her hands faster than she thought possible and ordered, "Turn around!"

She complied, and later deemed it the most awkward couple of minutes of her life.

Author's note: Short, with some humor. I've never done well with being serious for an entire story, so here it is. Next chapter should be a little more dramatic as Maria finds out just how difficult it is to try and get a few illegal lab results. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sick bay south was one of the more private and elite health institutions on the SHUSH campus. J. Gander himself came to the south bay for his biannual physicals and for his every other medical need. So to Dr. Lance McCain it made perfect sense that he should recover from his traumatizing event with his patient here as well. Nothing but the best for the best.

Looking in the mirror he could see an ugly bruise forming around his neck where he'd been throttled and his eye where he'd been punched. His head was a violent ache and there were a couple slashes across his face. He made a mental note to have the patient's talons trimmed…possibly removed. Lance grinned at the thought and was relieved that the wounds added to his rather roguish appearance. The ladies would be hard pressed to keep their hands off him, even more so when he had a few more zeros after his name.

But his patient was being difficult. His smile faded and was replaced with a silent snarl. He was running out of time and their mysterious benefactor was growing short on patience, not only that, the guy was known for disposing of those who failed him.

The doctor stole a glance at his savior who took the brunt of the attack. Quinton's hulking frame was bruised and battered. Right now a nurse was tending to a bloody, possibly broken nose. Who'd known the patient could move so fast? Perhaps the added strength and speed was due to the dosage he'd given him. But it didn't make sense, sodium pentothoyl was supposed to loosen the patient up, make him more at ease to speak… They'd have to put him in restraints again, pity really, it was almost fun to watch him squirm when he was loose...

Lance let his head fall back in frustration. He'd been paid in advance to discover how Megavolt gained his control over electricity and there'd be a bonus, a big bonus, once he discovered how such control could be passed on to another, specifically to his second boss. But how? His patient refused to say more than two words. They were nice to him at first, but then when that didn't solve any thing, they resolved to other methods of persuasion. They'd beaten him, taken away food privileges, taken away any contact with that which contained his deadly element and many other tactics of torture and still he remained uncooperative.

Movement caught his eye, removing him from his thoughts. Another guard stood at the foot of his bed. "Sir?"

He was annoyed and his head was a restless hurt, "What?" The more timid canine wasn't one of his regulars but he'd been put in charge of the cell to relieve Quinton.

"I-I just thought that you should know that Dr. Dos Santos was in to see the patient."

"WHAT!?" Lance shot up faster than he should have and regretted it the moment his blood pounding joined in with the percussion ensemble already in session between his ears. His vision was going a little blurry. "I told you no one was to go in until that monster calmed down!" Just great not 24 hours after J. Gander's warning and Maria was probably in another sick bay more than likely half dead! "Where are they treating her?"

"Uh, nowhere sir." The guard took a few steps backward as though he were the one insane.

Lance paled, "You mean she's-" he couldn't bring himself to say it. If Maria was dead, he was ruined before he even began! He'd be removed from the program, hell forget the program, he'd be removed from SHUSH!

"N-no sir, it was amazing, she walked in calm as a summer sky, and came back out the same way."

The conniving mouse let this process, all sorts of possibilities were clamoring for attention as he leaned forward, "You mean to tell me, that you let her go in that cell, by herself, and then that she came out again…without a scratch?"

"Well, y-yes sir?" The guard retreated a bit more, the gleam in his superior's eyes making him edgy.

"How…enlightening." Dr. McCain then looked at the fidgeting guard, "And by the way, you're fired."

Later on that night, Quinton lay on one of the many beds in sick bay. They were keeping him over night until his concussion went away. Every now and again a nurse would pass by to make sure he hadn't drifted off to sleep. That was fine with the canine, it gave him time to think.

His mind was zeroing in on Lance. The doctor was becoming a problem, a health hazard to be specific. Things weren't going well, and it was making Quinton uneasy. If the results of this project only affected Dr. McCain, the canine would be only to happy to let the idiot dig his own grave. However, he and his entire squad would feel the squeeze of failure should it occur. Thinking of his squad, they were getting antsy. Not that he blamed them, McCain was making too many mistakes, but he couldn't do anything until he heard from the higher ups.

"Quinton?" He saw a cute little brunette, clipboard in hand through his swollen eye. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been through the gauntlet, Ms. Quackman."

Her smile was sympathetic, "I bet, well, if it makes you feel any better, the RN says you can take two of these, "she handed him a small cup with two pills inside, "And she'll be in to check on you in the morning."

He accepted them and the glass of water while joking, "Medicated induced sleep, sounds like heaven."

She chuckled, "If you need anything, I'm on duty for the next hour or so."

He raised an eyebrow in question and immediately wished he hadn't. "Just an hour?"

She looked embarrassed now, "Oh, I'm kind of a floater. I cover lunch breaks, get coffee, assist where they need assisting, y'know, the glamour of filing and the romance of typing."

"A glorified gopher, eh?"

She rolled her eyes while she pulled the curtains around his bed to give him a little more privacy. "You can say that again. G'night, Quinton."

"Night Ms. Quackman."

It wasn't five minutes after she left that his phone rang.

"Quinton." he answered.

"I hoird t'rough da grape vine dat youse is 'avin' a rough day."

He rubbed at his eyes and said loud enough to be heard by prying ears, "Well, sweetie, I've got a little concussion, so they thought it best to keep me overnight, sorry I didn't call earlier."

The voice on the other end of the line was amused, "Glad at 'ear youse is still in action. 'owevah, yer little friend McCain 'as two strikes, one more an' 'e's outta da game."

Quinton lowered his voice, "I don't suppose he's told you about the new player?" He was greeted by silence so he continued, "There's a new doctor on board by the name Maria Dos Santos." There was more silence and then muffled conversation.

"Youse t'ink she can be bought?"

"Not a chance. But I think she could be useful. A little birdie told me she waltzed right on in to see our little patient right after he used us for punching bags. She walked back out about thirty minutes later without a mark."

"Interestin', McCain probably did 'imself a favah, but dat's still strike t'ree. Da next time youse get da chance, bench 'im."

Quinton grinned as he asked, "For the season?"

"For 'is entire career!"

Over by the nurses station Megan Quackman stood looking over at the cloth that hid Quinton from view.

"He certainly has some interesting conversations with his wife, must love baseball." she muttered and then went about checking on a certain blood sample.

Megavolt sat huddled in the darkness, thinking as best he could. Every now and then he'd have to start over as he'd follow one train of thought and then without warning, he'd find himself staring at the wall of his cell, mind blank. It was frustrating.

He looked at his hands, the blackened tips of his fingers were actually starting to heal. But that's not why he was observing them so carefully, a memory was tugging at him. A woman, he had a feeling she should be familiar, had his hand and was walking with him somewhere. That was special, they didn't get out much. Why was he so short, or was she just tall?

"Here you go honey, just like I promised."

"Will you push me on the swing, mommy?"

Pain. Wall. He blinked.

Again he looked at his hands as memories tumbled over him.

A door opened and the stench of alcohol wafted in.

"Yer breathing too loud, you miserable puke"  
"I-I'm sorry"  
"Did I give you permission to speak?!"

Pain. Wall. He blinked.

"His hands! His hands!! Secure his hands!"

Pain. Wall. Blink.

"Please, I'll give you whatever you want, just don't-

Wall. Blink.

"Curiosity killed the-"

Blink.

"Get the tranquilizers"  
"They aren't working!"

Blink.

" Hey Sparky, it's plaaaaaaaytime!"

Blink.

"You knob!"

Blink.

"Don't delay, kill today!!"

Blink.

"I am the terror that flaps-"

Blink.

"…Just tell me what I want to know Elmo, and this will all go away"  
"…Just tell me what I want to know Elmo, and this will all go away"  
"…Just tell me what I want to know Elmo, and this will all go away"  
"…Just tell me what I want to know Elmo, and this will all go away…"

He screamed, clapping his hands over his ears.

"Elmo?"

His head shot up and his eyes scanned the room. Empty.

She brushed away his hair. It didn't hurt, he flinched anyway. She took his hands. It didn't hurt, he let her hold them.

"It didn't hurt"  
"It's not supposed to."

Blink.

Maria. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Dec. 14 2008:** Minor edit for time line issues.

The young assistant drummed her trimmed nails across the stainless steal counter top. She hated waiting, especially waiting for things she technically shouldn't be doing.

"C'mon," Megan whined at the Lab computer, "Can't you process any _faster_?!" It whirred in response. "Dumb smart, thing," she growled, shedding her lab coat and draping it across the back of a chair.

Dr. dos Santos had been right about ordering up a blood sample. There had been so many medications in Megavolt's system, some of which shouldn't be mixed. It was no wonder he went berserk on Dr. McCain and Quinton or anyone. What concerned her even more were the_ unidentifiable_ compounds.

SHUSH computers were networked together and if one didn't have the answer it automatically searched the others, foreign and native. They also had every man made drug know in existence listed in their databases, in every language. If SHUSH's souped up babies didn't know what it was, it was either A.) a fluke in the reading, or B.) a newly designed and developed med, probably untested with tons of lovely unpredictable side effects. And the diabolical beauty of it all was that said side effects could take place in a matter of seconds, days, weeks, even years, or not at all. It depended on luck or lack thereof, but one never really knew. Circumstances usually pointed to case B.

Now that was just the blood sample's results, of which she had a hard copy tucked away in an envelope ready to take straight to Santos and another copy sitting in the doctor's inbox. Megan couldn't wait to see the whole other can of worms she and Maria had opened when the computer finished running the diagnostic on the urinary sample. Though what the Brazilian doctor planned on doing with the results was beyond her, while they now knew that Megavolt's meds had been tampered with, there was no way to know by whom. And even if there was speculation, and Megan could guess Maria was quite the speculator, there was no way to prove it. If anything, Dr. dos Santos was the last one to have administered any medication to Megavolt. She'd be a prime suspect. But then again…Dr. McCain had been the last to actually see him, unscheduled and unsupervised… Lots of broken protocol there, Agent Grizzlekoff would be ecstatic for weeks.

"Only on the job one day, and she's stirring up the hornet's nest," Megan muttered running a hand through her short locks. "How nice to know I'm not the only one." She glanced over at the self-proclaimed super computer, the blasted thing was still "thinking." Her head hit the desk. The universe was against her and she would never sleep again; she was sure of it. Despite what most people thought, working for SHUSH, unless you were an Agent, was downright pure unadulterated boredom. Just then, when all hope was lost, the beautiful sound of the printer caught her ear.

"Yes!" she shouted to the empty room, "Mama's got a date with a hot shower tonight!"

"I'm afraid that hot shower is going to have to wait, Ms. Quackman."

She whirled around to see Lance McCain studying the sheets spitting from the printer. He looked up and smiled his dashing smile or it least it would have been dashing if half his face wasn't swollen and his eye black.

"Dr. McCain, what are you doing out of sick bay?"

"I could ask you the same question, isn't that where you're supposed to be?" He checked his watch, "I believe you told Quinton you still had an hour, half of which has already past might I add."

Megan crossed her arms not liking the condescending tone he was using, "I also told Quinton that I was a glorified gopher, my duties change with my superior's fancy."

"And that includes running urinary diagnostics?"

"Among other things."

"And just who is your superior, Ms. Quackman?"

"Not you." Eat that pansy!

"Well, then I'd certainly like to hear your explanation to the director as to why you have a urinary sample on my patient, a urinary sample that I didn't ask for, using equipment you're not authorized to touch unless with a more experienced SHUSH member present."

Crud.

He drew out a syringe. "Ms. Quackman, I don't suppose a sizable amount of money could erase this information from your pretty head?" He was gesturing towards the information resting on the printer.

She took a step back, was he threatening her? That just screamed all kinds of guilty; she didn't like that needle he was waving all over the place either. He advanced. "I'll take your stunning silence as a 'no'. I guess turning you into a raving lunatic is the only option left, that or killing you."

She gasped.

"Fortunately for you, I don't like getting my hands dirty."

Megan froze. This wasn't happening! She wasn't an agent! She was a gopher! She didn't get trained to handle this! Hell, she didn't get _paid_ to handle this! Just before he took a hold of her wrist the doors opened again and in stepped Quinton with two other guards. Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave as she side stepped McCain and dashed for the guards.

"He's nuts!" she cried, skidding past in her haste. "He's been messin' with the rehabilitation project and now he just threatened to kill me!"

Quinton quirked an eyebrow towards the doctor and made a hand gesture towards one of the two behind him. Megan yelped in surprise as the brute restrained her.

"Can you prove it?" The canine asked looking over his shoulder.

"N-no," she stammered to Quinton, not sure what to think anymore.

"Good, that makes things easier."

The moment she saw the gun, she brought her heel up into the guard's groin in a neat scoop kick and bolted for the nearest exit. She heard shots ring out behind her and she clutched at her side. Adrenaline was a wonderful, wonderful thing; it kept her running where ever her feet would carry her.

Quinton swore. He missed, twice. Steelbeak would have his head for this one. He looked down at McCain bound and gagged. "I gotta report in." He told his comrades, "Go after her and shut her up. Then get the hell out. After hearin' those fired rounds they've probably already started changin' the securtity codes."

They saluted and took off, one still a little shaky on his feet.

The canine knelt down and pinched his captive's cheek. "And you, you miserable sack of mucus. I'm gonna take _real_ good care of you. But first, we're gonna make a little stop and visit a mutual friend on the way out. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?" McCain only paled as realization hit and began to struggle.

Darkwing wandered around J. Gander's office with his eyes, picking out all of the delicious hiding places that were littered about. His curiosity was burning to know what his old companion had concealed from everyday eyes. And away his imagination flew while J. Gander busied himself studying the vigilante. Eventually it began to irk the crime fighter and he returned the stare as politely as was impolitely possible.

The director chuckled, "Forgive me Darkwing, my mind has been elsewhere as of late." He stood much slower than he used to from his chair. "You're probably wondering why I've called you here."

Dark leaned against the wall grinning, "I have to admit, you have me stumped. Usually I can guess."

"Or you already know more than we do."

The darkly clothed duck let out a bark of laughter, "You said it, not me."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" J. Gander winced and sat once more. "I'm not as young as I once was, Darkwing."

The hero didn't like where this conversation was potentially heading, "You look healthy to me, John."

"Oh yes, I'm quite healthy, but I'm _old_, almost elderly." He chuckled gently, "I've already turned in my papers for retirement. And you know what they said? They said I was long overdue."

The masked mallard was floored, so much so he took a seat. Shock didn't begin to describe how he felt, in fact it wasn't shock; it was anger. Anger at not noticing it sooner, the slow movements, the pained expressions, the weariness in the old gander's eyes… Anger at himself for being selfish for wanting and expecting Hooter to be immortal and not following through. Darkwing had never once imagined SHUSH without the director. He didn't _want_ to imagine SHUSH without him and with Grizzlekoff in his place. For a moment, he was caught up in childish disappointment and before he could censor his speech he'd already spoken, "So, that's it? You're just giving up and walking away?"

Gander's face was open and kind, even understanding, "I prefer bowing out gracefully. But if that's how you see it, then, yes, I'm walking away. Judge me if you will, it's been a long hard road and I'm tired. And I think I'm warranted some rest. It's time for someone else to carry on the fight." Darkwing said nothing so he began to lead up to his invitation. "The truth is, SHUSH needs someone young, someone fresh, someone that has field experience, someone I trust."

"What are you getting at, J. Gander?"

"What I'm 'getting at,' Drake, is that I'd like to offer you the Director's Chair."

Silence heavy and imposing filled the office. Darkwing leaned back in the chair leveling his gaze at the director while his mind went into overdrive. When had SHUSH found him out? And did Gander seriously think throwing him the director's chair was going to be that simple? Forget that, did the man honestly think he'd take the job? Paper pushing, answering phones, dealing with arrogant vigilantes, he knew someone would take his place on the streets eventually, dealing with people in general…scientists… He'd go mad.

The phone spared him a response.

"Think about it," Hooter said before answering, "." Darkwing watched the wizened eyes widen. "WHAT!?"

Darkwing jumped at the volume alone. Never had he ever heard the older bird raise his voice above that of a conversational tone. Something beyond normal was wrong.

"Code yellow, I want every available Agent at the ready. Find Maria. Just do it! And shut off the power!" He paused listening, "What was she doing there? How bad? Get her to an outside facility then!" The second the receiver slammed down the lights went out. "Darkwing, I believe we need your assistance. FOWL has penetrated our security, one of our doctor's that has been working on a classified project is missing, a lab assistant has been shot, and I believe an old acquaintance of yours has been released from his cell."

He sighed in relief to once again be in his element. Earlier conversation pushed to the back of his mind he answered nonchalantly, "Oh? Which old acquaintance? There are quite a few that have cells."

The silence was unnerving until Hooter finally answered sighing, "Megavolt."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** I know, long time no write. Sorry guys I've been busier than I care to remember! And this chapter gave me some trouble. I hope it lives up to the rest of the story! Enjoy!

Darkwing sped through the black hallways towards the holding cell. Top priority was to keep Megavolt contained and that job had fallen to him. The corners of his beak pulled upwards in a predatory grin. This was where he belonged, where he thrived. Hooter's offer still dangled before him mockingly and he shoved it to the side. Drawing his gas gun, he moved with more caution trusting his instincts and the night vision specs. Without them he'd be doing everything by touch, since the director had ordered that even the emergency power be cut.

The place was eerily deserted and quiet. The hallways were transformed from secure strongholds to something ominous. It was more than a little unnerving that the place he had become so familiar with morphed into another unpredictable environment that might prove hazardous to not only his health, but those around him. As of now, he had no need to worry about innocent bystanders. When the evacuation order was given everyone simply vanished, impressive, even by his standards. He bet his best fedora that the place was riddled with secret passages…

At the sound of indistinct muttering, Darkwing plastered himself into the nearest accommodating space, a door frame. Not ideal but workable. The conversation was now becoming audible.

"She gave us the slip," one was growling. "Quinton'll kill us."

"Before or after the good doctor?" The other questioned dryly.

"Doesn't matter, dead is dead. I coulda swore Quinton hit her, but there ain't a drop of blood anywhere!"

Darkwing concluded they were talking about the wounded lab assistant J. Gander had mentioned. He waited a few minutes longer hoping he could glean something more about this doctor they supposedly had as a hostage.

"C'mon we'd better head back before the fireworks start."

The vigilante continued to make himself as non-existent as physically possible as the other shuddered and said, "I think Steelbeak is loosin' it if he thinks we're gonna waltz right outta here with Megavolt."

"Well, the only thing we'll be loosing is our heads if we disobey orders. Let's go. We have to face the music sooner or later."

"I'd rather it be later," the other grumbled. "I guess it's a fair consolation prize to watch that electric freak take McCain apart."

The voices were growing faint again before Darkwing made his presence known. He fired a smoke canister and let his voice echo around the live hallway.

"You bad eggs are a wandering a little far from the nest, don't you think?"

The two FOWL agents whipped out their firearms and unloaded their bullets into the fog. Darkwing had been correct in assuming they had their own night vision. Guns would slow him down but there were only two of them. However, it sounded like he had his timetable laid out for him if he wanted to save this McCain person from a sparky demise.

He could hear Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum snickering as he made his way behind them. Idiots, did they really think he was that easy to get rid of?

"Marco…" Tweedle-Dee called practically giggling.

"Marco!" Tweedle-Dum took up the chant.

Tiring of their antics, Darkwing tapped them on their respective shoulders. They whirled too surprised to act and were greeted by cold eyes swathed about by black.

"Polo!" he muttered before cracking their heads together.

Gander ran a hand over his tired face, "How bad is she, Sara?"

"Quite horrible, Director, had they hit her in any other place, there would have been less damage to her core memory, core power source, mobility and to all of her ports for downloads and uploads. It's utterly tragic that her own body acted as shrapnel once the bullet made contact. Outside damage is minimal, it's the inside that looks like a St. Canard traffic jam during rush hour."

Hooter came around the table to inspect the woman lying prone, particularly her left side. He fingered the frayed wires coming from what he could only think to describe as a wound. "It's amazing she was able to go for as long as she did."

Dr. Bellum shrugged with a deep sigh, "Megan was just a successful prototype that went beyond our imaginings, sir."

The older bird's face hardened, "Considering where we got the plans for her design, its amazing we haven't had any complications before this." He paused. "What are the odds of recovering our encrypted files she has stored?

"Zilch to none," she stated matter of fact, "Unless we can find someone more familiar with this type of technology…You have to admit it, John, the man was out of his mind to be sure, but it's hard to say which label defines him the most, insane or brilliant? Most of the components used to create Megan were already configured and while I studied each in depth before we assembled her, the intricacy of it all is beyond me."

"Indeed." John continued to think, "Perhaps then, one must be a little insane to create life beyond the normal means…"

Dr. Bellum was content to let her thoughts wander to the day and the state in which they had found Megan in that demented lab. Her body was still in many pieces, scattered hap hazardously about. But her face had been complete and with a certain amount of tender craftsmanship that made the scientist wonder.

"Maybe not insane, director, "she said as she delicately traced the A.I.'s cheek, "Perhaps…more …haunted."

John seemed to be too distracted, pondering the mortar holding the walls together, to process her comment. "Whatever his motives, my dear, I believe its been far too long since I've paid him a visit. He's been awful quiet considering his present circumstance…

The scientist spared him a concerned glance. "Just be careful, John. He may be mad, but he's deceitfully intelligent."

"I'm aware, Dr. Bellum, of this particular scoundrel's capabilities. If I can't get him to see things my way… I'll make him an offer he'd be loath to refuse."

The last thing Maria could coherently remember was leaving Megavolt's cell in one piece and sending her samples to Megan Quackman through J. Gander's secretary as instructed. She was then deemed too sleep deprived to even consider driving herself home. A kindly doctor, whose name eluded her at the moment, escorted her to a quiet employee lounge with a couch. She barely heard the apology about all the beds being taken in this wing. Her body just wasn't used to the graveyard shift and she was soon fast asleep...And thrown into a chaotic mess.

Again, a random series of fragmented dreams assaulted her from all sides, most about Megavolt. Sometimes she was a spectator, other times she saw what Megavolt saw, and sometimes he was cowering before her in small ball begging her to stop. To stop what, she didn't know. The streets of Brazil in Rio after dark loomed over her, haunting her still. Two men were dragging her kicking and screaming towards an alley. Then she was running, holding her side while bullets whizzed past. Somewhere someone laughed. Electricity was humming idly behind her eyelids and deep in her bones. She was invincible! None would dare harm her! The current continued to hum almost purr until it came to rest at a place in her mind. It whispered her name...

She sat up with a gasp just as the lights went out.


End file.
